


As the Bombshells of My Daily Fears Explode

by mcgarrygirl78



Series: fiftysomething [14]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drama, F/M, Family, Friendship, Humor, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 01:42:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2410376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcgarrygirl78/pseuds/mcgarrygirl78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can still handle the things I need to handle.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	As the Bombshells of My Daily Fears Explode

**Author's Note:**

> This Hotch seems to be speaking to me the most lately so I listen. The title comes from The Indigo Girls Song _Galileo_. I liked going on a little emotional journey and writing this story. I had mentioned when reviewing _Omnivore_ that I thought Hotch had been a little weepy lately and his personality seemed like he would be the kind to anger when he was frustrated and not cry. Not that Hotch tears dont make a fangirl's heart swoon but I went in the other direction.

“Well I am taking a half day tomorrow so I can drive down to Richmond to get my parents and…”

 

“No,” Emily shook her head. “Nat and I are going to pick up your parents. You are picking up the twins at school.”

 

“No, that wasn’t the plan.” Hotch shook his head.

 

“Yes it was.”

 

“Emily, what is going on?”

 

The Hotchners were at the dinner table as a family. Hotch loved family dinner time but between work and the insane schedules of his children, it was usually maybe a twice weekly thing. One of his New Year’s resolutions was to fix that though he was not really sure how.

 

“Nothing is going on,” His wife replied. “Nat and I are driving down and you can stay home.”

 

“I took time off so I can drive to Richmond.”

 

“We’ll just talk about it later, honey.”

 

“Don’t dismiss me…we will talk about it now.”

 

“Do not raise your voice at this table.” Emily warned. She looked at the children, who were all in turn looking at her. “We will discuss it later.”

 

She watched his eyes darken as his fork slammed against his plate.

 

“I've lost my appetite,” he stood. “Excuse me.”

 

Emily made no effort to stop him. He went up the back stairs and Emily focused on the kids.

 

“I'm sorry guys.”

 

“Why is daddy mad?” Alex asked.

 

“I don't know, sweetheart.”

 

“Do you really not know or are we supposed to not know?” Dylan asked.

 

“I really don’t know. He’s under stress.”

 

“This happened to my friend Carrie’s parents.” Bree said. “Then her dad moved in with some 27 year old who works for _Cosmo_.”

 

“Daddy can't leave us!” Alex exclaimed.

 

“Your father is not leaving. Sabrina, cut it with the speculations and eat your dinner.”

 

“Mom, it’s true though.”

 

“Eat your dinner.” Emily replied through clenched teeth.

 

The teenager nodded, putting the focus on her baked chicken. Jack didn’t say anything and though Emily wanted to know what he was thinking, she did not ask. Home had just been insane lately, it could get that way around the holidays, and the entire family was under stress.

 

“Mom, I'm not hungry anymore.” Alex said, the tears evident in her voice.

  
“I concur.” Dylan put down his fork.

 

“I'm sorry.” She pulled her youngest children close, kissing their foreheads. “I didn’t expect this to be anything but a normal dinner.”

 

“Go and talk to him mom.” Jack said. “We’ll be alright down here.”

 

“Alright,” Emily stood. “Please eat your dinner guys. Daddy is OK, its just a stressful time of year.”

 

The four faces, their beautiful babies, didn't look as if they believed a word she said. Things went from busy but normal to Hotch changing in the span of about three days. That caused Emily more worry than his unusual outburst at the table. She grabbed his cranberry apple juice, a peace offering, and went up the stairs. The upper level was quiet…no music from Jack’s room or video games from Dylan’s. Emily walked down the hallway, lined with photos of the kids, stopping at the closed bedroom door.

 

“Hotch…” she walked in.

 

“What the hell are you trying to do, emasculate me? And to do it in front of the children Emily, that’s unacceptable. I am not a damn invalid, I am a grown man. If I want to drive to Richmond to get my parents than I will damn well drive to Richmond.”

 

“Are you through?” she asked, her tone even.

 

Emily didn’t feel even so she placed the glass on the dresser. The last thing she needed was for Hotch to see her hands shaking.

 

“I am tired of you treating me as if something is wrong with me.”

 

“I do not…”

 

“Yes you do!”

 

“Dammit Hotch, lower your voice. Your children are downstairs and they are upset enough as is.”

 

“Oh and that’s another thing that is my fault right?” he asked.

 

“I didn’t say that. What's going on?”

 

They were both quiet, looking at each other as if poised to attack. Emily didn’t know what to expect so like a porcupine she prepared to defend herself if necessary. It had been a long time since she had seen her husband like this. A desk job had calmed him some, even if that job was Deputy Director of the FBI. She wanted to grab hold of him but honestly did not know how he would react. While she would certainly never fear him, her instincts told her to keep her distance.

 

“Aaron…” Emily reached out for his arm.

 

“I am doing everything I am supposed to do, baby, everything. Why is nothing working?”

 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“The damn stress test. My blood pressure and cholesterol are too high. I listen to you Emily, I do. Very little red meat, exercise, relaxation techniques, all of it. I'm scared. I'm scared and your solution is more restrictions. You cannot put me on a short leash, Emily. I have to be able to live.”

 

“That’s not my solution, I assure you. I didn’t even know about the stress test.”

 

“Then what's the Richmond thing, Emily? I've been planning the trip since the beginning of the month and you just kill it. You did it without even discussing it with me and that is not how we do things.”

 

“I may have handled it wrong,” she replied, sitting down on the bed. “I need to apologize for that. What is this about a stress test though?”

 

“Why did you do it?” Hotch countered with his own question. He joined her on the bed.

 

“The drive would be no good for your back and knee; you know you get stiff if you sit too long in the winter. I knew something was going on with you but I thought you would talk about it when you were ready. I thought spending time with the kids, doing festive things, would be more rejuvenating than a drive down the I-95 corridor.”

 

“I would have taken the back roads but you're right.” Hotch replied with a nod. “Just talk to me baby, you don’t have to hijack my life. I can still handle the things I need to handle.”

 

“I know.” Emily gingerly took his face in her hands. “You should have told me about the test, you didn’t have to go through that alone. What did the doctor say?”

 

“My father was 47 when he died. He had lung cancer; smoked a pack a day since he was in his teens. I live the exact opposite, taking care of my body to the best of my ability. My blood pressure is still too high, my cholesterol is borderline, and my heart rate and pulse certainly were not to my doctor’s satisfaction. I don’t know what else to do. I am so afraid that one day I will be in that office and I will drop dead. I can't leave you…I cannot leave my children.”

 

“That is not going to happen.”

 

“Don’t say that; you do not know that.”

 

“We don’t know any of it. No one does so we just live life to the fullest. I am willing to bet that the tests will be better after two weeks vacation. You know we are going to get some time alone, I will take care of you. I always do.”

 

“It’s becoming a part-time job. Sometimes I feel…”

 

“If you say you are a burden to me Aaron Hotchner I might knock your lights out. You just need a breather; there is nothing wrong with that.”

 

“A breather,” Hotch repeated.

 

“Mmm hmm,” Emily nodded, leaning to kiss his nose. “It was one bad test Hotch, and I will look at the numbers. It’s not the end of the line, we keep going.”

 

“What do we do?”

 

“We spend Christmas with the people we love. You're always happy when the family is around. Then the kids scatter and we get some early nights and some late mornings. Maybe we should cancel our New Year’s Eve plans and have a movie night in. Invite JJ and Dave; just be close with friends. I understand your worry, but I am telling you that we never stop fighting. Never.”

 

“I'm sorry Emily.” Hotch pulled her into his arms. “I'm sorry for not talking to you and I am sorry for losing my temper.”

 

“You scared me, Aaron.”

 

“Will you forgive me?”

 

“99% of the time,” she stroked the back of his silver hair. “We do not hold grudges, even when we feel like killing each other. You need to go downstairs and apologize to your children though.”

 

“Are they very upset?” he asked.

 

“Think about how you felt when you saw your parents argue.”

 

Hotch shuddered. His parents didn’t argue, they screamed, and his mother usually ended up hurt. He fell asleep many nights with his pillow over his head to drown out their drunken rages. If he ever made his children feel that way it would be unforgivable. No child deserved that uncertainty or fear.

 

“I love you, baby. I love you so much.”

 

“I love you too.” She kissed him, standing from the bed and holding out her hands for him. “Next time I won't be so forgiving. You have to talk to me. I can't help if I don’t know. C’mon, you need to finish your dinner.”

 

Hotch sighed, pulling himself up from the bed. He was nervous about speaking with the kids. Both he and Emily handled discipline but he hated raising his voice to them or around them. They had not been spanked since they were toddlers and smacks on the bottom worked miracles. Bree had been on the receiving end more than her siblings. He never wanted them to fear him or hate him, as he sometimes did his own father. All these years after Alexander Hotchner’s death and his son still didn’t know how to feel.

 

“They could never hate you.” Emily said, reading his thoughts before kissing his cheek.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Positive.”

 

All four of them were still at the table; the twins pretending to pick over their dinner.

 

“I need to apologize.” Hotch said. “I had a bad day but I never meant to take it out on your mother or you.”

 

“Did we do something, dad?” Dylan asked.

 

“Absolutely not.” Hotch sat back at the table as Jack took his plate to the microwave. “I was just being a jerk. I'm really sorry.”

 

“Christmas is a stressful time.” Bree said. “Did you know homicides triple this time of year…people kill their whole families.”

 

“Sabrina…” her mother warned.

 

“Ooh, I saw this thing on Investigation Discovery the other night…”

 

“Zip it Dil,” Jack put his father’s dinner in front of him. “Dad is not going to kill us.”

 

“Well I know that.”

 

“Do you feel better daddy?” Alexandra asked.

 

“Yes love, I do. I didn’t mean to spoil dinner.”

 

“The broccoli did that.” Dylan replied.

 

Hotch smirked.

 

“Its really OK, daddy.” Bree said. “I have crap days all the time. Its normal, right mom?”

 

“Yes. I have dulce de leche cheesecake for dessert, that’ll make us feel better.”

 

“Sweet!” Dylan exclaimed. He threw his arms around his father, hugging him tight and kissing him. “I love you dad, and you looked like you could use a hug.”

 

“I love you too,” Hotch held him close. “I promise not to use the dinner table anymore as a place to unleash my crap days.”

 

“I take bubble baths.” Bree said. “They work wonders.”

 

“So noted.” Hotch started eating his dinner, reaching his free hand across the table to squeeze his wife’s. Emily smiled.

 

“Who wants dessert? Dylan, eat some of those vegetables. Alex sweetie, help me clear the table.”

 

He watched them as the talking and laughing and goofiness slowly filtered back into their family time. Hotch hoped they were OK; it was just one mistake they could recover from it. Too many apologies wouldn’t help; it might make the kids think something was really wrong. He would just drink down the bile of his thoughtlessness with another glass of cranberry apple juice while figuring out a way to make it up to them, to make it up to Emily.

 

***

                                                                                                                                      



End file.
